


The Frequent Gendermorph

by sk8rpssockpup (MissIzzy)



Series: The Gendermorphs [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Community: hockeyanonmeme, F/M, Genderbending, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIzzy/pseuds/sk8rpssockpup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex's cycle kicks in too late to bring the team any luck against the Lightning, so s/he and Sasha find another use for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Frequent Gendermorph

**Author's Note:**

> Written right after the Caps were swept out of the 2011 playoffs by the Lightning, in response to another hockeyanonmeme prompt: "Could anon get gender-morph with Alex Ovechkin changing to a girl and Alex Semin showing he's more than just a bottom? Pretty please!"

It had been the first playoff series where Alex hadn’t switched out once, but just because his body hadn’t realized they were going to be swept didn’t mean it couldn’t adjust on the fly. In fact, it had gotten the point where Alex could sense when a cycle was coming, and he delibrately put on the loosest shirt and jacket he owned, and stashed his emergency woman’s uniform, padding, and skates in his locker beforehand. At least the first preparation came in handy when it kicked in on the bus back to the hotel.  
  
He recognized the first pinch to his skull and dick immediately, followed by the feeling of hips jutting out, ready to expand. “How far to hotel?” he called out the driver, glad his voice hadn’t started changing yet.  
  
“About ten minutes in this traffic,” the driver answered, which meant the transformation would just about be finishing up; he’d have to carry his shoes, since they wouldn’t stay on his feet by then. At least they were in warm Florida.  
  
Normally, in a situation like this, s/he would have told the others immediately, maybe stand up and let them rib hir. Such a thing might have even cheered them up. Except that in the past few months, Alex’s being switched out had become seen as a good luck charm for any game s/he played in alternate form. They’d broken their eight-game losing streak with hir switched out, won that first post trade deadline game, and locked their playoff berth up. S/he knew that contrary to helping, it probably would have hindered, but part of hir would now always believe they would have won that night’s game if hir body had only changed earlier, and the others would feel the same.  
  
But there was no hiding it from Sasha, if only because he was seated next to hir. Which was strange; shouldn’t he be hanging off Jason the way he’d been doing? Except s/he was pretty sure Jason had turned his back on him after last night, which Alex was deeply angry at him for. Jason hadn’t said much to hir either lately, but s/he had plenty of other people to talk to; his abandoning Sasha so rudely like this was another matter all together, especially when the series hadn’t even been over.  
  
Sure enough, when Alex’s breasts really started to strain the fabric of hir jacket, Sasha softly exclaimed, “A little late.”  
  
“If I could control it I would’ve turned the tit earlier,” s/he whispered back, low mood aggravated.  
  
“Do you need any help?”  
  
“No, I can manage.” There was noone in the world who was as used to this part of being a gendermorph as s/he was. Nor even hir mother had cycled this frequently.  
  
S/he heard a couple of the younger guys murmur words about drinks to each other as they got off the bus, Alex moving quickly enough to minimize the opportunity hir teammates had of noticing the change to hir profile; some of them probably did spot it, but were apparently too depressed to say anything. But s/he didn’t know if s/he would have been up for it even if s/he hadn’t just changed, which meant she shouldn’t be ingesting anything for the next hour and a half and in fact was probably going to nap during that time because the transformation was a little taxing physically, which was kind of sad; maybe s/he was finally getting a little old. Sasha without being asked was nice enough to walk right in front of hir, blocking the sight of hir breasts from anyone approaching.  
  
Sasha chuckled as Alex dropped hir pants as soon as the door was closed behind them; they’d gotten loose almost everywhere but were uncomfortably tight around hir hips. The rest was off within moments. All the team was long used to seeing Alex’s naked female body; s/he had always showered and changed freely around them, determined to be changed neither by the biological condition nor by what s/he’d endured during hir teen years at the hands of boys who had always hated hir, hated that a boy who wasn’t even a real man was better than them, made it so the only thing s/he’d ever feared was being alone with them. Those scars were old now; no fear anymore, and s/he thought s/he had gotten the team to accept it more, by being so completely unaffected.  
  
S/he was tempted not to shave until morning, for the amusement of having facial hair while female, but the hair would come off much more easily in hir current state, so s/he joined Sasha in the bathroom. He took a lot longer, though, giving Alex, now in one of hir mother’s old nightgowns, the loose kind she’d wear if she thought she was going to change in the night, a chance to lie back on the bed and run hir hands over hir breasts and stomach, enjoying both touching them and having them touched. S/he stroked her hips and thighs and sighed softly.  
  
S/he wished it was possible to get Crosby there. Rough hard angry sex would’ve been heaven just then. Between his concussion and the way their schedules had gone it had been way too long, and afterwards they could have even put their own rivalry aside to throw curses at the damn Lightning; that would’ve been fun. Sex with Crosby was a paradoxical amount of fun, whether it was him in male form fucking Crosby in female form, or Crosby in male form fucking hir in female form, between that almost stunned look on his/hir face he/s/he got when turned on enough, to what those pretty lips could do with either kind of genitals. But there was no way he could ever get there before s/he switched back, even if he’d felt like indulging Alex, and he probably wouldn’t have anyway.  
  
Unless Crosby had turned the tit as well; he’d apparently been doing so more while concussed. But even that might not have stopped them. S/he remembered the last time, just before the Winter Classic, when it had been Crosby switched out and underneath him, telling hir to hurry up because he himself was due to switch out, “And be different if we both are girls, no?”  
  
“What, are you scared of being a lesbian?” Crosby had smirked. “You really think I’d pass up any chance to get my hands on those tits of yours?”  
  
But those tits hadn’t been around them(actually hadn’t arrived before they’d gone back to DC); instead Crosby’s had, and s/he’d whimpered like a  _telochki_  when he’d ravaged them, fucking hir on the floor with hir bare heels digging into his back. Just at the memory of it s/he felt that heat between hir legs of female arousal flare up, enough so that a slight moan escaped hir lips, and hir hand strayed down to cup hirself through the nightgown.  
  
When Alex had been a boy, picked on in school and never able to go anywhere without a pair of shoes in a bag, he’d told anyone who would listen that there was no good part to being a girl, ever. But then, having grown up, s/he’d discovered the female orgasm. Sex had been complicated in the teen years by cruel boys, but as an adult, escaping them, s/he always made it a point to enjoy hir female body whenever practical, even if it was only a quick masturbation session while Sasha no doubt fussed and lingered over his newly-shaven chin in the bathroom.  
  
S/he heard his voice, cursing as he dropped something, muttering about a towel. S/he could picture him, running his fingers over still damp skin, eyes closed, muscles still tense. During their losing streak in December s/he recalled walking in on Sasha in another hotel bathroom, hunched over the sink with his shirt off, and that image came back now, the curve of his back, slightly sweaty in the heated room, his hair limp, his chest visibly rising and falling as he breathed, arms knotting as his fingers flexed and unflexed against the marble.  
  
At that thought of it, hir stomach dropped, and heat suddenly flushed through hir loins, hir breath catching.

It was too hot to even freak out about, too hot to do anything but pull the gown up and scramble for hir clit with fingers too small, bite down on hir lip as s/he started to rub. After days and weeks of tension and limited release it rose quickly; this wasn’t going to take long-  
  
S/he heard a very startled noise from near the bathroom door.  
  
S/he opened hir eyes to a frozen Sasha, shirt off and thrown over his arm to leave his chest bare, lips parted, deeply flushed. It was a sight that made hir breasts ache, and s/he had trouble moving hir eyes away-but when s/he did, they traveled down to the growing bulge in his trousers, and immediately s/he wanted.

Normally Alex tended not to fuck hir teammates. Caused too many problems afterwards. There had been that one time with Federov but s/he’d been younger then. However, it was the end of the season, it was the fourth early loss in a row, it was a four-game humiliation, and it was way too long since s/he’d gotten laid as either a man or woman, and s/he found hirself thinking  _Fuck it._  
  
S/he pulled hir nightgown up to expose hir generous breasts, spread hir legs a little further, grinned, and said, “Come here and let’s feel better.”  
  
Sasha sure could undress quickly when the situation called for it; it took him two seconds to join Alex on the bed but he was already naked, and as he climbed up hir body he also yanked at the nightgown until it came off completely. “Never been with a woman this big,” he commented. He seemed unable to stop staring at those breasts.  
  
“You know how to use your mouth?” Alex snapped at him when he just continued looking at them. A moment later his tongue and teeth were plunging onto her breast, and s/he groaned in delight, the heat and pressure and wetness of it sending jolts straight to between hir legs, and then s/he groaned again, as his fingers found hir pussy, soaking wet with everything s/he’d been thinking and feeling and wanting, like Sasha’s hand jerking back and forth, splitting hir open so wide it hurt for the first few thrusts but even the pain was relief, part of sex in this constantly restored form and it felt so good to be filled, fingers curling up searching for and finding spots that left Alex close to screaming, arching madly up onto Sasha’s hand, into his mouth as it left one breast wonderfully sore and used and attacked the other, whatever pride that might have stopped hir from acting like this long, long forgotten in the face of a throbbing, hungry body and a mind relieved to be so completely shut down.  
  
“No, please,” s/he begged when Sasha’s hand and mouth withdrew, barely able to think, though when s/he heard Sasha’s mutterings s/he added, “Bag’s right behind you. You know where the condoms are already, yes?”  
  
He did, but it was still too long to wait, running hir hands up and down the goosebumps on hir skin, stroking places on hir hips and thighs that made hir twitch and gasp; everything was sensitive right now, everything wanted to be touched. But Sasha was breathing so hard he clearly needed to be in hir now; s/he watched him fumble with a condom and finally crawled forwards, breasts impossibly heavy as they dangled down, and applied it for him. S/he also took advantage of the opportunity to pinch a nipple; loving the sound he made. “How badly do you need to fuck me?” s/he laughed.  
  
A moment later s/he somehow ended up flat on hir back and with Sasha hovering over hir, hands pinning hir wrists as he bit at hir neck and hissed, “You should have some idea.” The dominance was completely unexpected, and s/he had the strength to throw him off and stop it but s/he didn’t want to, the idea of letting go that night was too much to resist.  
  
He was hot and thick sliding into hir, and the way he pulsed made hir moan, pulling him down to bite at his lips as he fucked hir hard, grunting and groaning into hir mouth as his whole body heaved with the force of his thrusts. His hands were on hir breasts again, but she grabbed them and moved them to hir back as s/he strugged to breathe, then one of them seized hir hair and nearly pulled hir head back as he mouthed at hir neck. S/he grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down closer, heated chest meeting heated chest, hir hands gripping as his hard muscles, moved slowly down to his ass and pushed him in deeper. His hips stuttered, and s/he laughed, “That’s all you got, Sasha?” In response he shoved so forcefully s/he actually moved up the mattress, split hir in half so well s/he almost sobbed, as if he would properly break hir the way these past four games had nearly done.  
  
“Gonna come,” he gasped out, and s/he was so far gone s/he only had to scramble a finger down to hir clit and rub for two seconds before s/he went off like a powder keg, body thrashing so violently s/he had no idea how he held on even as his own body shuddered and he went so limp against hir that as the the spasms started to die down s/he briefly wondered if he’d passed out.  
  
But no, he was breathing too heavily for that, and the crazy thing about being female was that s/he recovered first, wormed hir way out from under him and considered him as s/he asked, “You said you wanted to go downstairs and get something to eat?”  
  
“Need to shower first now,” replied Sasha, without moving. Looking at him like this was bringing up a couple of unpleasant questions, such as how they were going to deal with the fallout of this, and then if in fact he was going to remain hir teammate long enough for it to matter, though even then, putting aside the Worlds they might now travel to, they’d probably be reunited for Sochi, and there’d been enough of that kind of trouble at the last Olympics.  
  
“Go shower now,” s/he finally ordered, “or I will, and use up all the hot water.”  
  
That got him up, though pretty slowly. S/he watched him lumber off to the bathroom and pulled one of the rumpled blankets around hir against the cold.  The bruises of Sasha’s hands and teeth actually weren’t much, not when set against the bigger ones from the past month of playoff hockey, but s/he felt their mark stronger. S/he hoped they faded by the time they left Tampa. There wasn’t much else that would.


End file.
